


Nine of Pentacles

by disorderly_redhead



Category: The Frankenstein Chronicles
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Frankenstein - Freeform, M/M, Sean Bean - Freeform, Set after Season 2, Spoilers, fake relationship au, netflix shows, so more angst, the frankenstein chronicles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-01 13:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderly_redhead/pseuds/disorderly_redhead
Summary: Set after Season 2 of the Frankenstein Chronicles, John Marlott and Daniel Hervey must work together on their parole to bring in a spice smuggler. The only thing is, John still hates Daniel, regardless of how he feels.I might edit chapters after uploading lol, if you haven't seen the Frankenstein Chronicles, go on Netflix and watch it now! It's really good and very underrated, this work is gonna be full of spoilers for it. It's a British show so only 12 episodes total.





	1. Chapter 1

There were rumors, old ones, of a man. A man beyond death. He had served in Napoleon's wars. He had been part of the river police after, always searching for goodness, and truth. Until he fell mad, and killed a young witness. He had hung for this crime, many years ago, until word began of a monster, a beast, a creature. The name was on lips of those who had never known him before. John Marlott... a name that was like a phrase, an adjective, a curse, a crime, a whisper, a hope, a promise. John Marlott.

And when, two hundred years later, a curious historian or sleuth would slog through facts placed on paper, searching for this person, this time, this place, they would see evidence of John Marlott. Here he was born, late 18th century. Here he joins the army, here he marries, here is an infant and wife laid to rest, here are his crimes, here he dies. Facts are not a story. They don't hold the emotion. The viewer must put forth that effort, imagine. Between these dates, they must ask: how would I weep to lose my love? How would I feel to wither, waste, snap, and kill? What would I feel when I die on the gallows? Why John Marlott? Why revive him? What sets him apart, makes him the monster hero of the filthy London hovels? 

The names connected to him are there as well, how the noble family of Harvey fell from the 17th century on, until it was only poor sister and brother orphans, alone. Running a charity hospital until the crimes of the brother come clear. And the sister? Suspicious circumstances. A strange fire. Ladies don't take to fiery self sacrifice. Churchyards don't bury suicides, and she was buried, one can find the mossy stones of an old family. Missing the orphan brother. 

Old newspapers decry his sins, but a lord doesn't hang. He bribes with his last card, that precious noble blood, and he rots in a remote prison. 

 

*

 

1853, London

Crime had grown more than the police force. Budgeting and recruitment campaigns only went so far, the criminal world was really running London. How else were people to get their tea, their spices, their cloth, without the undercutting lowlife pulling in cheap, tax free shipments, right under the law's nose? Bribery, robbery, blackmail were bloating the purses of the men and women running the scenes, and they grew bolder. Crime was becoming a profession. 

It was decided, at a panel of very important old men, that something had to be done. 

"We need a miracle," said a man who estimated he had lost over a thousand pounds in possible profits due to smuggling. "There has to be someone with the skill to catch these people! Someone with abilities beyond what the current police force entails."

"An orphan boy in my workhouse spoke of a man who helped the poor by the docks. He said he was strong, swift, and silent. All a rumor, I suppose," sniffed a withered business owner.

"That John Marlott stuff? Ridiculous!" Cries of outrage broke through the room, until one man spoke over the din.

"I remember John Marlott, and his trial. Over thirty years now. A few years later they took in the lord he accused, on a laundry list of crimes. If anyone knows the truth it would be him," reasoned the military man turned politician. "Find out where he is, if they didn't throw away the key and leave him to rot."

"My good man, that is pure madness," protested an administrator. 

"We need a miracle," he responded. "Madness may be the closest thing we have."

 

*

 

In old city files, buried between ancient velum declarations and crumbling paper warrants, was the file on Lord Daniel Hervey. The key was not thrown away, but tucked safely among his papers to rust and stain them. He had been sentenced for life to an asylum of quality, and a life of relative solitude. 

"What did you see?"

He was there. He kept to the shadows. 

His voice was not the voice of an elderly man, but as I said, he kept to the shadows.

Vines have grown over the window panes. Few remained in this hospital. His room was dirty with age, papers scattered on the floor, the hangings moth eaten. 

"John Marlott," he said, like a prayer, like a lover. 

It was that which tempted him and convinced him. It was that which solely interested him.

"You must pardon me first," he said. His voice sounded seldom used, and his manner was archaic. "Then I can find him."

Rumors persisted, after they escaped the board room.

Gossip.

A demon lord. A vampire. The mad scientist. Whoever he was, he served only Satan, and the air grew colder when he spoke, and he sustained himself on blood alone. 

 

*

 

Barry remembered when he first joined the police, a young, fresh faced man with relatively few prospects. He had worked his way up, had a family now that lived on his salary. He had become part of the middle class rate race, with a wife who cared too much about manners and society to appear aristocratic. He had been a fresh faced young man, but on the road to becoming the police chief, he had left that behind him. Now, crime swamped London, and his only hope was a joke crew. 

He'd read the files, he knew as much of the story as the press archives did. 

'Absurd,' he thought. 'If they're even real, they're enemies and will be more trouble than half the smuggling fleet, and directly in my hands as well'.

He did as he was told, though. He wasn't chief because he dissented, after all. 

Barry met with Lord Hervey when the time came, and furnished his lodgings from his own wages, and treated him as he would treat the savior of the British economy. He did his job, for better or worse. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as he had imagined. There was nothing undead or ghoulish about the murderous, disgraced noble. His clothes were worn, and though fine for their era, now considered unstylish. He was keen on finding John Marlott, though his main plan was insisting that John would find him.

"He will come to me. Word will spread of my release," he insisted, like repeating it would make it true. "I won't be much use for you against smugglers, but I know John Marlott well."

 

*

 

John did come, showed up at the office one day when it seemed like he never would. 

"John Marlott," Daniel said, short of breath and rising quickly. "You came-"

John pushed past him and spoke to Barry, who was sitting quite tensely in his chair. "I heard the London police needed me, and I came to offer my services," he said, in a thick voice. 

"You, you're... Mr. Marlott?" Barry said. 

"Aye, that's me. What was it you needed done?"

"Well, it's not so simple," Barry shuffled a few papers on his desk. "We were hoping for help catching a few smugglers who bring in their wares here and dilute the market."

John waited, holding his dirty hat in his hands.

"Research must be done, people tracked..."

"Aye, I've done all that before. Former river police, I was. And I tracked down him-" here he glared at Lord Hervey, "when he was doing his wicked doings, for all the good it did me. He walks free again, I see."

"Not free," Barry assured John. "He's working for us as well."

John scoffed. "Him? He's useless, unless you want to spread evil about London."

"The bargain was that you both were to serve the London police, as some sort of atonement," Barry said. "You're both old enemies of the Crown. They wanted you stuck together on a team, and a place of lodging was provided for you both. To share. For the next few years you'll be working for us, helping shut down the illegal goods trade."

"I won't be of any use doing that," Daniel spoke up. "I've never worked for police or as a detective."

"Would you rather hang?" John snapped at him, and Daniel closed his mouth, but they both knew that lords rarely hung; they had house arrests served on one of their more remote properties, or the nicer rooms in the prison.

"So you'll do it?" Barry asked.

"Aye," John said. "Out of respect, but Lord Hervey won't last out there."

"Give him a shot," Barry said. "They told me, it was the two of you to work together."

"For now. When he gets gutted by some angry fisherman, I'll drop the dead weight and finish your investigation myself."

"Of course, Mr Marlott. However, for now..."

 

*

 

Much of Lord Hervey’s property had gone to the crown or as evidence after his arrest, and he had brought only a trunk of personal items to the property. Old tools, personal writings, and worn, aged clothing was all he had. 

The apartment was part of a house, sectioned off and rented by an elderly woman. In the first room was the hearth, stove, and sink. One shallow cupboard hung dourly over the counter, and the hearth was blackened from years of use.

It was already furnished for them, with a table that dipped slightly in the middle from wear, surrounded by dull wooden chairs, a dark couch, and well worn writing desk in the front room. The small second room held a squat, heavy wooden bedframe and weighty dresser. The outhouse was a short walk behind the house, and there was only one window per room. Despite the dark walls and wear, there was a charm to brick floors worn velvety by wash brushes and the timbers on the ceiling. There was little it was missing from a technical view, but it seemed dull and lacking in a certain way.

“You’ll not live here with me,” John told Daniel, once they had arrived.

"I was here first," Daniel protested.

"Out." 

“Where will I live?”

“You’ll have to find some place." John stared him down, then said, in a moment of mercy, "I’ll allow your trunk to stay.”

"This is how you treat me, after so much time?" Daniel said softly.

"I hoped I would never see you again," John spat. "There isn't enough time for me to forget what you've done. Get out of here before I throw you out."

Daniel glared at him, but didn’t make a complaint, and from then on John only saw him at the offices. He could live with that. He didn't inquire after Daniel's living solution, and it seemed he didn't complain to the chief as John wasn't reprimanded. 

 

*

 

The first assignment came in a week.

“I don’t expect you to solve this in a night,” Barry said, pacing. “We’ve been after him for a year now, but finally one of his ships was reported at a dock and we have a lead. He’s a spice smuggler, Frank Suthmunder. A gentleman who gets his coin through those channels.”

John took the report and read it over, before tucking it away. "I'll sort him out," he said darkly.

“I need to read that,” Daniel said. “If we’re to get anything done.”

“I don’t need your help. Stay out of the way and I’ll get evidence shortly.” With that, John left.

“Let me help you, John,” Daniel chased him down in the hallway. “I know of this man.”

“The last thing I need is you in the way,” John sneered, shoving him away.

He took his supper alone that night, as always, then went out and walked the docks till the sky grew light.  

John waited at the docks four nights in a row before he saw anything. It was cold and wet, amid the shipments and suspicious figures slumming around. The lead was cold and he couldn't tell a legal shipment from an illegal one, all goods were handled by the same hardened looking men. Too many questions and he risked being pulled into a trap, but if he didn't find something soon, when would he ever. John blew on his hands and rubbed them together. The sea breeze was chill tonight, a February nip in the air. He’d seen nothing of Daniel in the time since he brushed him off, and the last thing he expected to see was his enemy stumbling out of the riverside tavern.

“I told you to stay out of this,” John growled, upon him in a few strides and roughly grabbing his arm, but Daniel nearly collapsed.

“I’ve been stabbed,” he confessed, and then John noticed how he was clutching his abdomen with one hand, and his shirt was stained to the elbow with red lifeblood, still spurting out between his fingers.

“What did I tell you,” John said, taking off his overcoat and putting it around Daniel’s shoulders, concealing his plight, “You have no business here?”

There was no clever retort to that, only a soft groan as Daniel squeezed his wound to slow the blood loss. John guided Daniel a few streets up to a nicer district, where a cart could be hailed.

“My friend’s drunk,” John lied to the old man driving. “Would you take us to Forstford for some coin?”

The old man in a stained work smock nodded. “Get in back,” he said.


	2. Chapter 2

“John,” Daniel whispered. “John-”

“Keep quiet,” John said brusquely, nudging him with his boot. John sat on the side of the wagon, having helped Daniel lay down on its bed.

“I’m dying-”

“Hush.”

“John, the bleeding…”

“Put pressure on it,” John said, reaching down and clamping a gloved hand over Daniel’s. “I thought you were a doctor.”

“I will die, John-”

“Not before you tell me what you were doing there and what you found out,” John replied.

“I am dying,” Daniel insisted, each phrased forced with a pained breath. “John, forgive me. Please. I am sorry for how I wronged you.”

“We’re home,” John said. “You haven’t died yet.”

 

“Lay on the table,” John told Daniel when they got inside, going to find the candles, soap, water, anything he’d need and fast.

“There’s a kit in my trunk,” Daniel said. “Bring it to me and I can do the stitches.”

He couldn’t, John knew, as he leaned against the table and squeezed the wound to stop the bleeding. John uncovered the kit; a curved needle and black silk thread in a neat pack near the top of the trunk.

“Lay down,” John repeated, turning back towards his nemesis. 

“I’ll do it.”

“You can’t hardly stand.”

“I’m fine, give me the needle,” Daniel said, intending to argue, but it came out weak, punctuated by sharp breaths.

John set aside the kit and stalked over, grabbing Daniel around the waist with one arm and getting just enough leverage to deposit him on the table. “Lay still,” He said.

“You have to heat the needle,” Daniel blurted out, concerned.

“I know!” John said. “I’ve been exactly where you are.”

Daniel quieted and lay still, clenching the wound as John poured water into the basin. John unfastened Daniel's waistcoat and braces, and pulled up the bloodstained shirt. The wound had stopped bleeding but the surrounding skin was coated with blood, camouflaging the extent of the damage. John cleaned the area with a few firm swabs, noticing how Daniel winced at each stroke.

He then lit the candle and held the needle in the flame for a moment before threading it with black silk.

“Hold still,” John said, leaning over his abdomen, and then piercing his skin with the needle. If Daniel were to die, he would never get his report, John reminded himself as he stitched the stab wound.

Underneath him, Daniel was gasping in pain at each stitch until suddenly he stopped. John quickly looked up from the stitches and, seeing Daniel still with his eyes shut, felt for a pulse on his neck, breathing relief when he realised he’d only passed out from the pain. He couldn’t believe he was saving the life of the man he hated the most, but there he was, stitching the wound with more care than he deserved.

Despite John’s medical experience being only what he learned while in the army, the stitches looked secure and true, and after dabbing the gash with the rag, he shook Daniel’s shoulder.

Daniel didn’t wake, but was still breathing. John carefully removed his waistcoat and shirt completely and examined them. Both were soaked in blood. The dark waistcoat might be usable once soaked and patched, but the shirt would never been the same. The white fabric, once a fine cotton but now worn, would be stained beyond saving.

John laid the waistcoat to soak in a dish of cold water, and tossed the shirt on the fire.

“Don’t,” Daniel said softly, his speech dragging and slurred. “I’ve only got one.”

“Hard times, your lordship?” John mocked, guarding his relief at Daniel regaining concious. “You can wear one of mine.”

True to his word, John retrieved a clean shirt from the clothes press in the bedroom and handed it to Daniel, who had moved from lying atop the table to sitting uneasily on the sofa.

Daniel wrapped his abdomen in the bandages to protect the wound before pulling on John’s shirt. It was a larger fit than he required, and the neckline fell open against his chest.

After a brittle thanks, Daniel stood. “I’ll be heading home now,” he said. “I can give you a report tomorrow. I found out something useful-”

“Hold on,” John interrupted. “You’ll go nowhere. You’re a witness to my case, and until you give me that report, I’ll keep you where I say.”

Daniel laughed. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“There’s still someone going about who tried to kill you,” John rationalised, “And you’re my witness.”

Daniel shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is. Sit down.” Daniel obeyed, and John poured some water for him. “You can rest here tonight,” he continued. “Tonight only. And drink.”

“I can tell you what I know,” Daniel offered, taking the drink offered. “If I were to die in the night…”

“You won’t,” John insisted. “Men like us don’t go easily, Lord Hervey.”

“That’s true,” Daniel said, and drank.

 

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” John muttered when they prepared to sleep. He took a blanket from the clothes press and gestured to the bed.

“I can sleep on it,” Daniel said.

“Take the bed,” he replied, and left the room.

 

The blood loss and exhaustion took their toll, and Daniel slept late into the next day. He woke hungry and sore. John had placed the pitcher and basin in the bedroom, and Daniel washed up. He could smell food cooking in the other room and dressed, preparing to meet the day.

John eyed him as he stepped out and took a seat gingerly. “How do you feel?” He asked, voice flat and eyes narrowed.

“It hurts,” Daniel said. “But I’m alive.”

“You’ll be writing up a report of what you were doing at that tavern?” When Daniel nodded in affirmation, John seemed to relax slightly, and fixed him a bowl from the pot on the stove. “This will help you regain your strength.”

It was a beef bone broth, and Daniel drank deeply of the rich liquid.

“Is it possible you regret saving me, John Marlott?” He asked, after observing his creation’s body language at the table.

“If you’re done eating, write your report,” John said gruffly over his soup.

 

“A party?” Barry said. “And you know he’ll be there.”

“This sailor was quite insistent,” Daniel said. “Lord Hurst is a personal connection, I could make contact with our man over the course of the fortnight.”

“You think you can get close to Suthmunder in the time there?” Barry pressed.

“All the men mentioned who I know are of … inclinations which I - “

Barry interrupted with a laugh. “That’s not strictly police work, your lordship.”

“I was under the impression I was more of a detective or contracted worker,” Daniel retorted. “All I need to do is find evidence that can link Suthmunder to the imports, and you handle the prosecution.”

Barry thought on it, then nodded. “If that’s how you’ll have it. Call in Mr. Marlott.”

 

“This is an undercover assignment,” the police chief had said, as he sat them down in his office “The man we suspect of smuggling is your target.”

“That’s simple enough,” John replied. “Why is it undercover?”

“He’s hard to get to, suspicious of the police, and rightly so. Luckily, he knows a friend of Lord Hervey’s, so we’ve got an in. Your inclinations will help, begging your pardon, m’lord. He’ll be in a group-”

“Wait,” John interrupted. “What inclinations?”

Daniel sat silent, not looking at John. “What does he mean, Hervey?”

The chief snorted. “He offered it himself. Talked like it would be real helpful-”

“That’s enough, please,” Daniel said. “What’s the assignment?”

“It was your idea, pardon me. Anyways, you’ll have to infiltrate this group, try to find some evidence, places he intends to go, strange meetings, anything. You’ll pose as a couple to blend in.”

“A couple? We’re both men,” John said.

“That’s the point, John,” Daniel replied.


	3. Chapter 3

“I figured there must have been some way you bent Renquist and Bentley to do your bidding,” John sneered at him as they walked to borrow firearms. “That is low.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion,” Daniel snapped.

“I hope you’re as good as your reputation implies. Offer him what you gave those two and this case will be solved.”

“Which one of us acquired this lead?” Daniel replied.

“That’s right,” John said. “What did you offer that sailor that got him so in arms he stabbed you?”

Daniel stopped, and John turned around, unwilling to let the fight go. “I did offer him companionship,” Daniel said stiffly, “and as a result, I overheard the information that has us at this advantage. I was stabbed because there was a brawl. You can read the report you so diligently made me write the morning after I bled out.”

“Thank you for your whoring, then, Lord Hervey. What would the London police do without you?” The contempt in John’s voice was clear, and Daniel turned away from him. “Come get your piece,” John ordered, but Daniel walked away.

 

Daniel had argued, successfully, that he needed an advance to buy suitable clothing for a party. His letter to Lord Hurst, an old friend and the host, were sent, and he went to procure new shirts, waistcoats, trouser, jackets, and hats. He would have to look the part he once was to avoid much suspicion after his public case. Every detail, from neck tie to gloves to stockings, would be up for analysis, and besides, he had a special task to fulfill.

The issue of obstinate John Marlott was unavoidable. His opinion on the relations displayed in Lord Hurst’s gathering would be all too obvious if he wasn’t attached to Daniel. The prospect of having him on as the muscle was hardly comforting, as Daniel knew the contempt John held him in, and he determined then that he would not rely on John for any support. He also rather doubted John’s ability to act the part, but he would visit and offer some gentle tips that wouldn’t offend John’s sensibilities.

Given John’s harsh response to Barry revealing his personal preferences, it wouldn’t be easy. Perhaps, Daniel thought, he could approach him tomorrow in the office and they could set a time, in a public location, where John might be incentivized to behave less rashly.

“This performance is what the investigation relies on,” Daniel said patiently. “I’d like to discuss it with you, knowing you don’t have the experience necessary.”  
John narrowed his eyes. “If this is some plot you’ve-”

“Please, John,” and John actually looked up from the desk, holding Daniel’s gaze with his pale eyes, “I just want to be sure we can get what we need for the case. I trust you, but let me help. I know I can.”

John nodded, a brief dip of his head, before looking away. “Come by tonight, then.”

“Of course. Thank you, John,” Daniel smiled at him, then left.

John returned to his paperwork, still mulling on Daniel’s intent.

 

“I brought your shirt back,” Daniel said. “I have several of my own now.”

John turned from the hearth, wearing a carefully applied look of confusion. “I don’t want it,” he said.

“Oh?” Daniel faltered, blinking.

“Keep it,” John shrugged, turning back to the hearth.

“Now hold on,” Daniel’s voice rose a fraction. “I didn’t contaminate it, if that’s what you think.”

“I have several,” John said. “I thought you were struck, m’lord. In need of one, as it were.”

“I got an advance, and bought a few things. I have to look the part for this.”

“Is that so,” John said blandly.

“Yes,” Daniel bit out.

“Get out the plates, will you? I’m almost finished.”

Daniel obliged him, uncertain if John was toying with him, unable to discern his real feelings beneath the side stepping he was doing.

“And the wine,” John said, not moving from the fire.

Supper was fish and potatoes, plain but filling, and they ate in silence. It wasn’t till they finished that John said, “So, what’s this advice you wanted to give me?”

“Well, we’re to pose as a couple for this assignment,” Daniel began. “You’ll have to imagine that you don’t hate me, and aren’t with me due to court orders.”

John snorted at that, and Daniel paused. “Continue,” he said.

“I know we’re both… men. And you wouldn’t see me as you would a female companion because I am inherently different. I would however suggest that you attempt to transpose some of that sentiment into your performance as my partner. It might make the whole thing easier.”

Daniel tried to examine John’s face for any clues to his emotions, but found him once again unreadable. He scolded himself for even trying, know John held him in contempt, and not without reason.  
“We’ll be surrounded by men who have a certain inclination. It will be a different environment than you’re used to.”

“I don’t know how to behave in that setting,” John said.

“Don’t act strange about it and you’ll be fine,” Daniel replied.

“How does it work? Is it like being with yourself? Is one man like a woman?”

“No,” said Daniel. “It’s two men.”

“Are you more of the man or the woman when you…”

Daniel gave John a look, and responded, “I’m a man.”

 

Lord Hurst’s gathering was not for a month, and in the meantime Daniel had to re establish himself in the lord’s good graces to procure an invitation. He was encouraged to attend a casual soiree, and bring along his ‘gentleman friend’ he’d mentioned.

John was less than thrilled to be brought along to the gathering, but he behaved, if stiffly, when Daniel told him the news.

“Remember what I told you,” Daniel breathed, before they entered the party.

“This is John Marlott,” he said to Lord Hurst with a smile. John noted the hint of pride in his introduction, and traced the genuine feeling of it to the root of all his troubles; Daniel’s meddling with human life. Not that anyone could know their true involvement, though John didn’t doubt Daniel had dreamed of showing him off to the world, revealing his own cleverness and power. With that in mind, John pulled him close by his arm and smiled. Normal, casual, but he received a scolding quip for his efforts.

The other man laughed. “There’s nothing to fear here, Lord Hervey,” he said, “we are all the same,” but Daniel still shrugged out of the grasp.

They were invited to the getaway before the night was out, and after several glasses of port and the success, John was in a pleasant mood by the time he got home.

“Not so hard, was it?” Daniel said, before he disappeared into the night to ‘go home’. “Don’t feel you need to grab at me, though.”

 

It was a long and mostly silent carriage ride to the summer house of Lord Hurst. John had barely seen Daniel in the month’s time that had passed, and he read most of the journey. He’d been gone without a word and then shown up again, right on time, looking fresher and more pressed, ready for the next step of their mission.

They were warmly welcomed and assured of excellent accommodation at the great hall, and had arrived before supper, giving them time to wash up from the road.

There was only one bed in the chamber, with curtains parted revealing the counterpane.

“We must share it,” Daniel said. “Asking for other accommodations would arouse suspicion.”

To his relief, John agreed without a fuss.


	4. Chapter 4

John was surprised to find most of the other men seemed normal, and he could strike up natural conversations with them. 

Their target was a handsome man, younger than John and with pale coloring. He was well known, but prone to crude gestures and comments. 

Despite that, the first night went smoothly. For a moment after supper, John was resting in a chair by the fire when Daniel came up to him, and leaned against the side of the chair and lightly touched John’s hair. 

“I’m going to bed,” said Daniel.

“I’ll join you,” John replied, rising.

“You don’t need to,” insisted Daniel, by John’s conversation partner was ready to relinquish him. 

They undressed in silence, and laid down next to each other without comment, stiff as corpses. 

“You saw him?” Daniel ventured, in a whisper. “Frank Suthmunder.”

“Yes,” John replied. “The one with the foul mouth?”

Daniel chuckled. “He’s not known as the most genteel, no.”

“Tell me what you need,” John said, “and we can bring him in.”

“I will. Goodnight, John.”

John didn’t respond, just turned on his side.

 

“We’ve not made much progress,” John said on the afternoon of the third day.

“I’ll work on it,” Daniel said. “I’m sure I can get him to reveal some crucial detail.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

They were walking by the property’s pond, finally having a moment by themselves. The pond was fabricated, meant to make the scene more picturesque, as were the willows transplanted around it, and the stone bench they finally sat down at. 

“The same way I got Bentley to marry my sister, and Renquist to do my bidding.”

John looked out over the water, gleaming in the late sunlight. “I’ve heard some of the men here say things about you.”

Daniel glanced at him. “Probably about half of it is true, the rest falsehood.”

“They think you’re using me for some gain.”

“When really, it’s the other way around, Inspector Marlott?” He teased, but John didn’t let the mood change.

“They said you’re ‘easy’.” 

“That’s not true, I’ve never slept with a man I couldn’t benefit something from.” 

“I just think, if someone says the sort of things they’re saying about someone I’m with-”

“It’s our cover, John. Don’t start any fights over my virtue or we’ll never get what we came for.” 

John looked at him, and when Daniel didn’t turn his head to meet his eye, turned to watch the scenery again. “Your friend who invited us here had a private conversation with me this morning. He was concerned about what he had seen. ‘He spoke so highly of you when we talked, I know he must be proud of you (he doesn’t know the whole of it though, does he? I know where your pride comes from) but he’s always been the sort to resist serious engagement’. He went on to tell me how I seemed a good man and would surely find myself someone as sincere as I was, ready for a secret monogamy. No slight intended to you, his old friend. That tells me people aren’t buying our cover, which puts our whole operation at risk. If we are revealed, Suthmunder could flee and set some fiend doing his bidding on us.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Daniel said, “We do need to sell our image, but I don’t know how we’ll do that when you are very clear how you feel about me.”

“Don’t worry about me,” John replied, “I can watch myself, I can lie. I can pretend that I adore you more than anyone in the room, and only we need know what you have committed against me. You have to engage with me or it won’t work. I’ll look like a drunk having at a bar maid if you keep standing stiffly next to me and glaring.” 

Daniel looked at John now, and John saw his attention belonged to him alone. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” he said. “There could be something I see as acceptable that upsets you, natural boundaries and reactions I am unaware of, as we are not in a relationship of this nature and have never been. You’re asking me to assume what months of experience would teach me.”

“Surely you’ve had relationships before?” John asked.

“Not like this,” Daniel said. “They were always secret, clandestine events.”

“Most of the men here live their London lives in such secrecy, but here you can see their relief at being free to express their love to its fullest.”

“John, I am trying,” he began, but John interrupted.

“You’re trying to seduce that man? Do so to me as well. Make me believe you want me, and everyone else will fall into line.”

Daniel faltered. Thats- that’ you advice here?”

“Yes.”

“That's what you want me to do? I think that would waste my effort and time, when I should be focusing on our target.”

John reached out to him, and Daniel instinctively flinched. “See what I mean?” John said. “No one will believe we’re lovers.”

“I have good reason to avoid your grasp,” Daniel said. 

“I’m not going to fight you out here, on our mission,” John responded indignantly. “Give me your hand.” 

Daniel reluctantly let John take his hand and hold it, as a companion would. “John, this is strange, we really needn’t…” 

John laughed at his discomfort, without malice. “Here’s one barrier broken down. We can, and ought to, touch each other. In the casual way lovers would.”

Daniel allowed his hand to relax in John’s grip. “You’re an expert on relationships now?” He said, but didn’t pull away.

“I’m just good at my job,” John said. “Now come walk the grounds with me, we will likely run into others doing the same, and it’s important we’re seen together.”

**Author's Note:**

> can't believe people are actually reading this lol swore i was the only person who watched the show. I'll try and keep this up and get it finished. in the meantime i'll post so nice one shot smut for anyone else who loves some hero/villain shipping and anything a little more in tune with the actual show's timeline and not as ooc. if you have any suggests for one shot fics leave a comment it's difficult being a pioneer in your field when you have limited kinks.


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